


running around in love again

by mozartspiano



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Choking, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozartspiano/pseuds/mozartspiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they meet at a coffee shop on valentine's day. it's all a horrible cliche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	running around in love again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notverypunkofme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notverypunkofme/gifts).



> title from ben howard's _end of the affair_.

They meet.

The cafe is a mess of people. Couples hold hands over coffee. Students glare from behind brightly lit laptop screens.

There's no where else to sit.

Niall has a cheese croissant, a heavy heart, and a dislike for Valentine's Day. He wants to go home but he can't.

There are two free seats in the whole cafe. One is across from Harry. The other is next to a couple.

"Can I sit here?"

Harry looks up from his notebook. He has dark bags under his green eyes. His lips are chewed up and red. There's a layer of paint under his fingernails.

"Pardon?"

"Can I sit here? Every other spot is taken."

Harry likes beautiful things.

"Sure."

Niall sits.

They're quiet at first. Society dictates the awkward pauses, the careful side glances. Harry's long legs brush Niall's under the table.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

Harry can't look away. The open page of his notebook is a squid with a twisted face, great eye bleeding. There's a large speech bubble next to him waiting for something witty, something brilliant for him to say that will shock and impress. Harry can't think of anything though. He's been stuck on it for days.

Harry likes beautiful things. Niall likes facts.

"Did you know St. Valentine is the patron saint of beekeeping?"

Niall isn't sure why he says it. His heart pounds as Harry looks up slowly, a confused furrow to his brow.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Niall wants to stop talking now.

"Well," Harry says. "Thanks for telling me, honey."

He winks. Niall blushes and laughs and looks down. He picks off a piece of his croissant and feels foolish when it crumbles in his fingers.

Harry hasn't gotten much sleep the past week. His hair, long and vibrant with curls, is greasy at the front. There's a spot to the left of his nose, red and sore. His cheeks are pale and his chest is heavy from the cold he can't quite shake off.

Niall hasn't gotten much sleep the past week. There's a draft in his flat, brought on by the February chill and the boy Niall used to kiss. He curls up on couches across campus and makes breakfast for friends in the morning in repayment.

"Is that a Ben Howard shirt?" Harry asks.

Niall looks down.

"Yeah," he says, fingering at the bottom of it. "You a fan?"

"Huge," Harry says. He can't get his eyes to stop looking at Niall's flushed cheeks and pale eyes. "His lyrics are so evocative. So haunting and poignant."

Niall nods along. He thinks Harry is a bit pretentious.

"I have tickets to see him at the Alexandra Palace," Harry continues.

"Oh," Niall says. "Me too-"

He stops himself. Frowns.

"At least, I think I do."

Harry watches Niall break off another bit of croissant. His own muffin is a distant memory and the way the pastry flakes around Niall's lips makes Harry's mouth water.

"You think so?"

"My ex bought the tickets," Niall doesn't lift his eyes up from the table. "So I don't know whether or not we're still going."

Harry's last ex was a bio major who choked him while they fucked and then charmed all of his friends. He went on an exchange to Vienna at the beginning of January and Harry hasn't thought about him since.

"I'm sorry," Harry wonders if Niall would choke him while they fucked. "That's really shit."

"It's fine," Niall says. His heart is doing a weird echo through his chest, rattling his ribs. "Just Valentine's Day, you know?"

Harry nods. He looks at the freckles on Niall's nose.

Niall nods. He looks at the spot on Harry's cheek and the greasy curl of his hair.

"I'm Harry," Harry says.

"I'm Niall," Niall says.

"What's your major?"

"Sound engineering."

"That's so cool."

Niall shrugs. He used to be able to talk to strangers and make jokes and be passionate about stuff like sound engineering. The breakup has taken a lot out of him.

He doesn't remember who he is.

"What about you?"

"Art major."

"What do you specialize in?"

"Um. Not sure yet."

Harry likes the gentle sweep of brushes over canvas. He likes the crude scrape of charcoal over paper. He likes the feeling of wet clay underneath his fingers, the soft delicacy of fabrics, the careful bend of metal working.

He doesn't know who he is.

"And you don't have a valentine?" Niall asks.

"Friend and I were supposed to go to this mixer," Harry says, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "But then he got a date."

Harry doesn't mention that Zayn also told Harry he couldn't be around his _negative energy_ right now which made him feel stupidly irritated and sad.

"What about you?" Harry asks. "Don't you want to get pissed at a club, show the ex how you've moved on?"

Niall laughs low. He doesn't reply.

The couple on the table next to them are holding hands. One of the girls has long red hair and sweet smile. The other has black lipstick and flushed cheeks. Harry's about eighty percent sure he made out with her once at a party in October. Her tongue piercing flashes as she speaks and he thinks about the drag of it on the roof of his mouth. 

"Is that today's paper in your bag?" Niall asks sometime later. His cheeks are red.

Harry looks down at the duffel bag next to him. A paper he picked up on the tube is inside it, unread but for the articles on Indonesian deforestation and Douglas Booth's latest film.

"Is the crossword still there?" Niall asks.

Harry grins. He slides the paper out of his bag and passes it to Niall. They let the silence take hold once more.

Harry draws. He draws blue eyes and pale skin, draws nervous fingers and hesitant mouths. He draws the soft of Niall's hoodie and the sweep of grey under each eye.

"What's a five letter word for love?"

"Adore?" Harry guesses.

"It ends with an R."

Harry looks at Niall's mouth and thinks maybe.

"Amour?" Harry says, soft.

Niall scratches it in. Harry sketches out the furrow of his brow and the slope of his nose. He breathes and breathes and breathes.

By the time Niall finishes the crossword he's ready.

"Hey," Harry says eyes on the table and Niall's mouth and the window. "I was wondering if you wanted to come back with me. To my flat. To hang out."

Niall can feel his cheeks turn red. He tries to picture it: Harry's hipster flat and the way he would ask if Niall wanted anything to drink. The awkward walk to Harry's bedroom, the dark glint of green in the dark as Harry would look him up and down. The slow slide of their bodies, the smooth rough of the sheets as Harry would pull them up over their heads.

"Okay," Niall hears himself saying.

"Okay," Harry hears himself echoing.

 

It's exactly how Niall pictured it.

The flat is messy and beautiful like the flecks of paint under Harry's fingernails. The water glass Harry insists on getting Niall is cool and refreshing and awkward in his hands. The walk to the bedroom under the guise of Harry wanting to show him something is obvious and calculated and makes Niall's breath heavy.

Harry kisses like he's been doing it his whole life.

Niall kisses like he never wants it to end but knows it will.

Harry's quick to slide a hand over the button of Niall's jeans. He's heavy on top, warm and searching with his greedy fingers over Niall's sides.

"Beautiful," he whispers into Niall's neck.

Niall swallows and stares at Harry's ceiling, takes in the scent of Harry's hair that creates a curtain around them when they kiss. 

Harry takes his time to slide down Niall's body. He flicks open his jeans, drags the zipper down with a white flash of teeth. Niall breathes and slides a hand through Harry's thick hair, so different from the soft fuzz of Liam's.

Harry sucks him like he has something to prove. He does it slowly, languidly, lips dragging and slurping. The noises make Niall's face heat up.

"You're quiet," Harry says pulling off. His hair is in his face so Niall pushes it up with one hand.

"Sorry," Niall says. "It's just so silent, I'm like. Self conscious."

Harry just smiles and slips a hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a phone, the second newest model, and turns some music on low. It's an indie band, something Niall doesn't know, and they're singing about hating the thought of him missing out.

The slow drag of Harry's lips settles his bones for the first time in weeks. He can't see the way Harry is stretched around him, tight and perfect, but he rocks into it anyways. Harry makes little noises so Niall makes them back.

Harry suckles on the head. It makes Niall squirm, desperate for more. He thinks about whining, shifting his fingers through Harry's hair, before he stops. He feels something click in him, a soft shift.

He is in charge. Harry has his prick in between his red red lips but Niall has his hand cupped around his neck. He has a power, has the power, which makes him dizzy.

He pushes Harry's head down. Harry goes, easy.

He pushes it down further. Harry's hair brushes against his stomach and tickles it.

He pushes it down until Harry's nose is up against his body, cock down his throat. Harry makes a choked, small noise but doesn't fight it.

Niall rocks his hips up, holding Harry's head in place. He moans.

He does it again. Again and again, two hands fisted in the curls spilling over his fingers. Harry's mouth is wet and warm, his hands shaking against Niall's hips, his breaths coming in sharp through his nose.

"Take it," Niall whispers. Harry whimpers.

"Take it," he says louder, fucking into Harry's mouth hard. Harry's hands scramble around his hips.

Niall pulls him off. Harry takes in a breath. His eyes are wide and wet with tears. There's spit down his chin, shiny in the dark of his bedroom. His nose is pink, lips red and raw. His breath comes out in little rasps, and they sound sharp and painful. 

Niall has never felt so powerful in his life.

He pushes Harry back down. Harry goes willingly. He lets Niall slide back into his sore mouth, lets him fuck up with his hips, lets his hair be pulled until he's dizzy with it. He can barely breathe, from the cock in his mouth and the hot flush that slides over his skin every time Niall shoves his face down further.

"Take it."

Harry takes it.

"Suck."

Harry sucks. 

"Harder, come on."

Harry feels a tear slip off his face and fall onto Niall's hip.

"Fuck."

Harry's jaw is aching.

"God."

Harry's never believed in God, not really, but he does then.

Niall comes with a gasp. Harry chokes over it, sloppy. Come slides down his chin, coats his lips.

Harry takes one hand off Niall's hip and slithers it down to his own cock. Niall is still fisting his hair, holding him close, and it takes Harry three strokes to come.

 

"I'm sorry about that," Niall says some time later.

"Sorry?" Harry asks. He has a policy of never apologizing for anything that gets you off. "Why're you sorry?"

Niall's cheeks are red. They're not really touching so Harry fixes that, slides a hand around Niall's waist.

"I've never been that, um- intense before. I'm sorry if I was choking you."

Harry's voice is a rasp: "I liked it."

"Oh."

They lie like that. In between them Harry's phone is still spewing out his mess of a playlist. A white boy with a guitar sings about love being a burning thing. Niall stares at Harry's lips. There's a patch of stubble next to his chin. Niall wants to feel it on his lips.

"Do you do this a lot?" Niall asks instead.

"Choke on a cock?"

"Sleep with a stranger."

Harry shrugs. He likes the sadness in Niall's eyes, likes how they look against his bed sheets. 

"I don't," Niall says. He can't look away from Harry's lips. Harry doesn't seem to mind. "I never do this."

"That's okay."

"No really, I don't do any of this usually. I'm usually not sad all the time. I usually don't make boys - uh, choke."

"I like choking," Harry says and then his phone vibrates once, twice. 

They look down. The screen is lit up with a picture of a boy. The boy has blue eyes and brown hair under a beanie. He's got crossed eyes in the picture and his tongue is out. Niall freezes.

"One second," Harry says, swiping to answer the call. He presses the phone to his ear with a smile. "Lou, hey."

Niall watches Harry laugh. The loose, powerful feeling from before is fading rapidly. Niall knows he should probably put on his pants and leave, but the thought of walking in the cold back to his flat is impossible. He closes his eyes. 

"I'll definitely be there," Harry is saying down the phone. His voice is still raspy, caught on a cough. Niall thinks about how hard he fucked Harry's face and wishes he could live in that moment forever. "I promise, Lou. No I'm not lying. Zayn is the one who doesn't keep his promises. Okay. Okay, I'll talk to you later. Okay. Okay, bye."

Niall hears him hang up: "Sorry about that."

"Was that your boyfriend?" Niall asks even though he knows it wasn't. Couldn't be.

"Best friend," Harry says.

Niall opens his eyes. Harry's looking at Niall's neck. 

"Louis?" Niall says. His toes are cold and curled. "Louis Tomlinson?"

"You know him?"

"My ex-boyfriend left me for him," Niall says. He watches as Harry's eyes slide onto his.

They're quiet. Harry opens his mouth to say something but he doesn't know what to say.

"You're really beautiful," Harry says some time later. His eyelids are slumped, eyes smoky with exhaustion. 

Niall looks away. He wants to say it back but he thinks Harry must already know. 

Harry fiddles with his phone to fill the silence again. Ben Howard starts up. He creates sounds with his guitar that Niall dreams about, makes swooping sounds and gentle coos. His voice echoes between them, echoes within Harry, within Niall.

_Has the world gone mad or is it me?_

"He's an idiot," Harry says, quietly.

"Okay," Niall says. 

"He didn't deserve you."

"You don't know me," Niall says.

"I want to."

Niall closes his eyes. He breaths and thinks and hopes.

Harry looks at Niall. He breaths and thinks and hopes. 

They meet in the middle of the bed. Niall kisses the patch of hair beneath Harry's lip. Harry runs his bruised lips across Niall's forehead. 

They hope it's enough.


End file.
